


Gone and Back

by Aroomie



Series: Witcher's Crane and Viper [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aftermath, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angry Letho of Gulet, Caring, Caring friends, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I can't tag to save my life, M/M, Misunderstandings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possible spoilers in tags, Tags May Change, Temporary Amnesia, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, brief - Freeform, worried friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aroomie/pseuds/Aroomie
Summary: Healing a heart takes time, but what if it doesn't want to be healed?Letho tries to deal with the fact that his Little Bird is gone, closing himself off from the world, golden hair haunting his dreams, while on the other side of the continent a man with wings tattooed on his back doesn't understand why he adores the pattern of snake scales.~~~~~~~~...I still suck at summaries. *sob*
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Gaetan (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Witcher's Crane and Viper [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937845
Comments: 31
Kudos: 42
Collections: Notes From The Path





	1. Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, look!! 
> 
> It's back. :D
> 
> Thank you so much to [disaster_imp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/disaster_imp/pseuds/disaster_imp) for beta'ing!! <3 <3

Letho spent the first winter after the attacks with the Cranes. He would help as much as he could, help them hunt for food and make partial repairs to keep the worst of the winter storms at bay. Every day he would vanish into Arris' room, pressing his face into the Crane’s pillow and taking in as much scent as he possibly could, their smells mixing together after just a few days. By the time winter was coming to an end and Letho felt the familiar itch to return to the path, the Crane’s smell barely remained. He kept Arris’ medallion around his neck most days, removing it only if he was doing something largely strenuous and didn’t want to risk damaging it. 

After the first month, Kaleb asked Letho if the Viper had found the final stone for Arris. Letho had grown quiet for a while after the question and Kaleb gave him time and waited for the Viper to answer. It took a couple of days, but Letho had approached him and set the final stone he’d found in front of the Crane. Kaleb whistled quietly, picking up the shimmering blue stone and flipped it about in his hand before motioning for Letho to follow him and they both went to Arris’s room and sat on his bed with their legs crossed and the filing kit between them. Kaleb instructed Letho how to file down the stone, how to polish it, and directed him on how to test the shape of it compared to the hole in the back of the medallion. Letho spent longer than usual on the stone, making sure it was perfect, taking his time, before finally clicking the stone into place with the others. Completing his Little Birds medallion. Kaleb left the room to give Letho time to himself when he’d finished.

Letho left Sky with the Cranes. The dark palomino mare would do much better there than back at the Viper school, he made sure of that. Spending time with Kaleb and Pitor to build a sturdy stable for the mare and made sure to give the Cranes tips and tricks to better care for a horse. One of the older Cranes, a blade master named Temel, made an off-handed comment that the Cranes may need to think about sheltering at one of the other schools from now on. The ocean was only going to be forgiving for so long. Regardless of their choice, Sky would be happier with them, the Viper was in no condition to take care of her and she needed time to gather her strength. The mare was not fit enough to make the trip back to the Viper school.

The first snowmelt came later than Letho was used to. As soon as he was able, he packed his bags, salvaged everything he could from Arris’ room so that his Little Bird was still with him while keeping the Crane medallion alongside his Viper, and bid farewell to Sky. He gave her extra attention, brushing her the way she liked it, checking her over one last time, then left and didn’t look back. Letho wandered down the paths for days after leaving the Crane school, not having any sort of destination in mind. He was not ready to go back home yet to the Viper school, to see more of his family gone. 

Almost two months had passed since he left the Cranes. Refusing to enter towns, staying in the woods and hunting for his meals only when his body truly required it, Letho did little more than survive. He was staring blankly at the much too small rabbit cooking over his campfire, fingers twirling the Crane medallion around his neck when a familiar voice rang out in the clearing.

“Letho? Letho is that you!?” The voice asked in wonder and Letho barely pivoted to look over his shoulder. The Viper’s brow lifted slightly as he looked at the familiar face of another Witcher.

“Vanik…” Letho barely whispered the other Witcher’s name. Vanik, Witcher of the Bear school, twenty-five years older than Letho himself; not that the age gap mattered. Vanik was the only Witcher outside of the Viper school that Letho proudly called his friend and brother. Vanik paused halfway to the fire Letho was sitting near, taking in the sight of the younger Witcher and a small frown appeared on his face. Letho was skinnier than he remembered, his muscle mass seemed to have gone down, cheeks starting to look gaunt.

“Looking a little worse for wear there, Letho,” Vanik said carefully, walking over and sitting down next to the Viper. “New silver blade?” Vanik asked, eyeing the third blade resting in a neat pile with his other two. 

“Hmm. Could say that,” Letho said dismissively and Vanik hummed. 

“It’s more dainty than what I’ve seen you using in the past…” Vanik looked from the blade and towards Letho’s face. “It’s not yours, is it?” He asked quietly and Letho’s face went from uninterested passiveness to one of anguish, his hand clutching tightly at the Crane medallion around his neck.

“No,” Letho said simply and Vanik nodded slowly. The Bear looked from Letho then to the sword again then over to the rest of Letho’s belongings. His brow twitched, noticing the end of a scarf poking out of the Viper’s bag, looked back to the sword, then towards Letho one last time and the way the Viper was clutching to the medallion around his neck. Vanik’s eyes went wide, darting back to the scarf end then to Letho, everything clicking.

“You…” Vanik tried to find his words but all that came out was a weak sound. He licked his lips and tried again. “You lost someone… Someone important in the raids, didn’t you?” Vanik asked carefully. Letho’s lips twisted into an ugly frown.

“Yeah.” Was all the Viper managed to say and Vanik let out a deep sigh. 

“You haven’t given yourself time,” Vanik said, it wasn’t a question but Letho nodded anyway. “I have some coin saved, we’ll find a quiet place.” Vanik looked to Letho. “Three barrels. Three barrels of white gull spiked vodka. When those are gone, we head out on the path together,” Vanik said. He stared at Letho for a long moment, waiting, until finally, the Viper nodded.

Vanik dragged Letho at an abandoned cottage on the outskirts of a town the following day and left the Viper to get it livable while he travelled into town and purchased the necessary items. He returned a couple of hours later with five barrels, two of them filled to the brim with food while the other three contained the vodka. Vanik then spent another hour preparing the white gull and pouring enough into the barrels to make them worth drinking for a Witcher. Letho had only done the bare minimum for making the cottage livable, proving just how far gone the Viper was in his mental state, and Vanik quickly finished the rest. 

“Alright. Three barrels. That’s it. After they're done, we head out on the path,” Vanik said. Letho let out a quiet noise to let Vanik know he had heard him then the Bear filled a decent sized mug and filled it with the vodka then pushed it towards Letho. The viper stared down at the mug for the longest time, glancing towards the barrels and back before finally grabbing hold of it and drinking the whole thing in one go. 

This motion continued. Letho would finish the drink put in front of him and Vanik would refill it, only when Letho was thoroughly plastered did he not finish the drinks in one swallow and instead gulped stupidly at the rim while laying across the top of a barely held together table in the cabin. That was when Letho would start rambling.

“He was so beautiful. My Crane. My Little Bird.” Letho babbled, staring at his mug and frowning hard. “He w-was so misund--- missssssss… Misunder--s-sttoood.” Letho pouted, poking at the rim of his no empty mug until Vanik took it away and refilled it. “He did all the--these pretty moves… Very flexy--- flexieyable? Flex…” Letho’s brow pinched as he stared at the table, Vanik placing a full mug before him. Letho waved a hand in the air. “Kissed him. Before leaving.” Letho laid out across the table. “Nice kiss. Wonderful kiss… Never shou--- shoulda stopped kissin’ ‘im,” Letho said, his eyes closing on their own accord. “Day away… One day… Nev-never sho-shoulda let ‘im go,” Letho slurred before falling unconscious. Vanik sighed, taking the mug back and drinking this one for himself. Letho was courting another Witcher and being courted in return, but the poor sod perished in the raids on the schools. Perhaps Vanik should have gotten four barrels?

The next couple of days passed by much the same with one very large difference between them. Every time Letho woke up from being completely shit-faced, the Viper seemed different, smelt different, and more importantly, he spoke less. Vanik began to worry about his friend, watching as with every passing hour the Viper closed off from his feelings, putting up walls around himself and refusing to talk about anything related to the Crane Medallion around his neck.

It took a week for the barrels to run dry and the two set out on the path, Vanik keeping an eye on his friend as they travelled to town to look for a contract. They were as welcoming as any other, they got a contract for a forktail, got paid their due, then went on their way. The next town, however, was less than welcoming. Witchers weren’t welcome in most towns by any means. This place, however, put unwelcome on a whole new level.

People turned when they approached, refused to even acknowledge they were there. It was only when they reached the notice board and saw the contract that they found someone willing to talk to them, albeit reluctantly, and Vanik’s brow lifted. This was because of the raids on their schools. No one believed they were needed anymore, and now that word of the raids had spread, the people had to make do with souring their treatment of the Witchers.

This new contract was for a griffin, barely any information was given, and as it turned out there were two. A mated pair. Vanik and Letho had some trouble felling them, underprepared as they were, and Vanik could tell that Letho was holding onto a very short rope with his temper. It snapped when they returned to town, the man that hired them for the job only giving them a quarter of the pay and Letho snarled so viciously it stunned Vanik into a frozen stare while Letho grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and slammed him up against the nearest wall, cussing him out and demanding to be compensated for their work and the humans half-truths. 

“What the fuck, Letho!?” Vanik hissed when they were on their way out of town, Letho counting the coin he’d just bullied out of the human, thankful that the stench of urine didn’t get on them.

“What?” Letho growled, looking at his friend. 

“Was that really necessary? You didn’t have to put a knife to his cock,” Vanik said exasperatedly. Letho snorted.

“Perhaps… His reaction was funny though.” Letho cracked a small grin at his words and Vanik stopped, staring wide-eyed at his friend. “If they want to call us Monsters, or whatever other names they can think of, why not act as such,” Letho added. Vanik felt his chest constrict. This wasn’t the Viper Vanik had grown to know, this was a man protecting himself by closing off his heart to everything around him. 

“I’m sorry your Crane is gone, Letho, but this…?” Vanik tried but Letho whirled around, turning that snarl onto Vanik. 

“Shut up! You know nothing. Understand nothing.” Letho snarled and glared at Vanik until the Bear finally lifted his hands in surrender. Letho spun back around and continued down the road, heedless of if Vanik was following, and the Bear just sighed wearily and follows after. He needed to try and make Letho see that being like this was not healthy, for himself or for Witchers as a whole. 

They set up camp in a clearing just off the path when the sun had almost vanished from the sky, the clouds above coloured in bright pinks, reds, and oranges. Letho lost himself as he stared at the colours. The leaves on the trees were those colours the last time he saw Arris. The reds and oranges of the leaves around them had made Arris’ hair look pink in the reflected light off his golden strands, his lips more flush after being kissed, his cheeks coloured so wonderfully. Letho shook his head and looked to see Vanik finished the fire pit and the Viper returned to skinning the two rabbits he’d managed to catch, the two of them working in silence. 

Letho didn’t care that Vanik thought he was wrong in how he treated the human. He didn’t care how anyone looked at him anymore. The only person whose opinion he cared for was gone, and now he doesn't care about anything else. Once the rabbit was cooked, they ate in silence, watched the fire flicker in silence, Letho busying himself with sharpening his blades while Vanik stared at him. Silence. 

The sound of branches snapping had both witchers jumping to their feet, blades in hand within seconds. They both starred in the direction, waiting, ready, until something stumbled into the clearing hands over tea kettle and skidded to a stop at their feet. Both Witcher’s stared down at the golden gaze blinking blearily up at them, Letho’s brow lifted in amusement while Vanik’s brow was pinched in confusion. 

“I thought Cats were supposed to be more graceful?” Letho asked, eyeing the medallion around the small Witchers neck. The tiny Witcher jumped to his feet and snarled at him, Letho’s brow lifting more and Vanik letting out a quiet snort.

“He’s definitely a Cat alright,” Vanik said, sheathing his blade and going back to his seat while Letho returned to sharpening his blades. “Sit down before you trip and fall again, Cat,” Vanik said and the small Witcher glared at him.

“Gaetan. My name is Gaetan, old man! We’ve been over this, and how the fuck is it that no matter where I go you’re always fucking there!?” The Cat, Geatan, snarled at Vanik and the Bear just snorted again and Letho gave a curious look towards the Bear as Vanik moved over to the fire and plucked what remained of his meal from the side and threw it at Gaetan who fumbled to catch it. 

“Yes, yes, _Gaetan_ , sit down before you fall down.” Vanik snarked and Gaetan gaped at him for a long second before sitting himself down, glancing between the two of them before tearing into the food.

“Viper and Bear travelling together? That’s… Not weird at all,” Gaetan said. Vanik smirked. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but our schools were raided this last winter. I see no harm in schools branching out to work together with each other now.” Vanik said, Letho nodding absently, and Gaetan made a noise. 

“I suppose that’s true. The oldest surviving Wolf, what’s his name? Vesi-- Something?” Gaetan tilted his head slightly and Letho’s brow lifted.

“Vesemir?” Letho asked and Gaetan pointed at him.

“That’s the one. I heard word he wants to try gathering as many of the surviving Witchers as he can at Kaer Morhen to talk about what we’re going to do now.” Gaetan said, swaying back and forth on his tail bone as he looked about the trees as if expecting something to jump out at him any moment. 

“That… That actually is not a bad idea.” Vanik said, looking to Letho. Perhaps being around other Witchers, in a safe place, will help Letho relax and be more himself again? 

“Yep. Word is that anyone who hears the “rumour” should head to Kaer Morhen for next winter so that we can all sit around lookin’ pretty while talking till our tongues fall out and ears fall off,” Gaetan said. Vanik laughed.

“What do you think, Letho?” Vanik asked the Viper and Letho spared them both a glance before shrugging, looking back to his task.

“Whatever,” Letho growled out and Vanik felt a small amount of hope that he could still try to help Letho when they bunker down for winter. Gaetan’s eyes never left Letho when they all drifted into a comfortable silence. He had never seen a viper before. The young Cat found himself in awe at the murderous aura coming off the large Viper. He wanted to know him.


	2. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s your name?” Opa looks over at his wife then back to the Witcher, watching as the man’s face shifts through a number of expressions before settling onto something panicked. Golden eyes dart up to look at each of them in turn.
> 
> “I…. I don’t remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's alive!! <3
> 
> Thank you so much [dapperanachronism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism/pseuds/dapperanachronism) for betaing!! <3 <3 <3 <3

The first thing Arris feels is pain. Searing across his left shoulder blade and down his ribs, leaving him unable to take in a proper breath of air as water fills his lungs and leaves him sputtering. He’s drowning. Arris flounders for a few more seconds, saltwater burning his wounds, his last conscious thoughts of a snake before his body collides with the underwater reef, hitting his head and the world fades to black. 

Winter is fast approaching and many of the fishing vessels are headed towards the docks before the waters freeze over and leave them stranded. It’s one of these vessels that noticed the strange movement of the sea life, a whale hanging about the bow and getting close enough to the boat to knock it just enough off course, and staying in the now vacant space to keep the ship from correcting course. 

“The fuck.” One of the younger crew at the wheel keeps looking over the edge, frowning as he tries to make corrections but finding himself blocked constantly. 

“Still there?” The young man looks over to see an older gentleman approaching him, he nods. 

“It’s not moving,” the man hisses, trying to correct the wheel again but once again jostles as they bump into the large mammal’s body. “Damnit!”

“Calm down, lad, getting angry at it won’t help anything,” the older man says, patting the younger on the shoulder. 

“Sorry, Opa,” the man mumbles, sighing heavily. Opa, a title of endearment that the elder had insisted everyone call him. The rest of the crew is busy bustling about, storing away their latest haul and trying to find a way to lure the whale away from the ship. Opa stares out at the waters, his lips pressing into a deep frown as he absently rubs the back of his fingers against his cheek. 

"Ah-hah! Maybe this will work?" His tired green gaze flicks over to one of the younger of their crew, frowning as the boy holds up a bomb. 

"Are you stupid?" Someone asks and cuffs the boy over the back of the head. 

"Hear me out! We throw it as far as we can on the _other side_ of the ship and maybe that will scare it off, without injury to it or us," the boy announces proudly, smiling wide as he presented the bomb to the other crewmate. The older sighs heavily and gives a small reluctant nod, mumbling his agreement. 

Opa rolls his eyes, letting the younger men of the crew go about their task, his eyes turning back out to the waters. Brows pinching, Opa grabs a seeing glass from a nearby surface, ignoring the curious look from the man at the wheel. 

"You may want to save that bomb, lads!" Opa yells, slapping the seeing glass against the chest of the man against the wheel, running down the steps to the main deck to fish through the barely acceptable weapon stash they kept on board. 

"Siren!" Opa rolls his eyes at the resulting panicked squeal that sounds like it could have come from a five-year-old girl, throwing a couple of daggers at the braver of the crew. He runs over to another barrel and grabs a spare net made of thicker ropes. If they're lucky, the beast will be distracted by whatever it was hovering over and leave them to pass by. 

As they get closer, the whale at the bow dips under the water and shifts, giving the ship one final nudge and making it impossible to change course to avoid the Siren. Opa is gonna have to dip into research about animal behaviour, one Siren could lead to more and he needs to be properly prepared before setting out with the crew again. He snaps out of his thoughts when the Siren shrieks, the creature diving for their sails now that they’d veered close enough to catch its attention. 

“Oi!” Opa snarls and smacks a man over the head when he zones out, staring at the shrieking creature, bringing his attention back to the present. This creature needs to be handled, lest the vessel gets taken down by one damned siren. But it’s definitely harder than Opa wants, trying to keep the men’s attention in the present to try and get rid of the creature, attempting to throw the net on the flying beast each time it dives, and missing. He curses when the net drapes across the side rail and catches on something that is definitely not the Siren he’d been aiming for.

Opa runs over to retrieve the net, smacking two other men over the head to keep their attention on the task. Now, he will deny it until his dying breath, but as Opa grabs hold of the net and pulls, something else comes up with it, and a surprised squeaking scream leaves him when he sees a hand in the net. A hand that is attached to an arm, followed by a whole body, Opa falls backwards onto his rear and stares in shock at the pale sea-soaked man standing in front of him, though standing would be putting it generously as the man looks about ready to topple over. 

Someone screaming behind Opa draws the attention of both him and the waterlogged stranger, both of them looking over to see one of the crewmen screaming and flailing as the Siren’s claws wrap around his throat. The stranger moves quickly, surprisingly so considering his appearance, and snatches a dagger from one of the stunned men who’d been unable to act. The stranger uses the Sirens distraction and lunges at it from behind, grabbing hold of one of the wings and slicing through the membrane, working quickly once his feet were on the ground to drive the dagger into the neck of the creature, twisting the blade and working it through the monsters neck until the spine snapped and the head fell limp. The remains of the skin connecting it to the rest of the Sirens body stretch until it gave way and the head fell to the deck, the body following suit. 

Opa stares wide-eyed at the stranger, taking the hand of a man who goes over to help him to his feet, and finally takes in the man’s appearance. Waterlogged blonde hair sticking to his forehead, clothes mangled and singed, crusted wet blood staining his face, red angry burn wounds travelling from his shoulder and more than likely spread further.

“Thank you, for the assist,” one of the men says, walking carefully over to the stranger only to yelp loudly as the man crumbles under the simple touch on his shoulder. Opa runs over, looking the stranger over as the others flit about, pushing hair back from his face and frowning when he sees the scar over his right eye. Curiosity gets the better of him and he carefully pulls one of the stranger’s eyes open, inhaling sharply as the golden cat eye of a Witcher stares unseeing at him. 

“No wonder he was able to handle that,” a voice speaks over Opa. Opa nods and hums in agreement. He moves about to check over the Witcher for any other wounds’ the burn on his shoulder winding down across his ribs, a decent sized cut on his head, impressing Opa that the Witcher has been able to be on his feet for that long. 

“Let’s get him changed and into one of the cots and-”

“Are you insane, Opa!? He’s a Witcher!” Someone hissed and Opa frowns. 

“And if not for him you’d be fucking dead!” 

The whispers on the others die down after that. 

“Get him below, tend him best you can, I will take him when we dock,” Opa says, watching as the others nod and move about. 

The Witcher is lifted and carried below deck while Opa returns with one man to the wheel. The rest of the voyage thankfully passes without further incident, and they are able to get the ship docked and anchored without any further issues. Opa gets the Witcher loaded up onto a carriage, one of the crew collecting his horse from the nearby stables to tether it to. 

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Opa… you’ve heard the rumours,” a young man says, frowning as Opa laughs away his concern. 

“That is all they are, lad, rumours. Are you sayin’ we should believe every little whisper we hear?” Opa asks, smiling down at the man now red in the face. “How would we ever leave the house?” 

Opa chuckles, snapping the reins and clicking his tongue, the horse snorting before it begins walking. He leaves the younger men to handle unloading the ship, his presence there simply decorative now as he is reaching the age where he needs to start taking it easy. Maybe next season he will stay home with his wife.

The trip home is quicker than he remembers, and when he arrives, he rushes into the house. His wife, ever the saint, wraps him in her arms and kisses him as she always has. Her joy shifts to shock however when he tells her about their possible long time guest. 

“Oh, darling…” She gasps, watching as Opa carries the Witcher inside and lays him out in the spare room. She immediately goes about tending to the Witcher, ordering Opa about to get water and cloth. She tends the Witcher with the utmost care, cleaning his wounds and even going as far as to wash his hair, Opa watches from the side and jumps to the ready for whatever task she needs him for. Once she’s all done, the Witcher clean, wounds dressed, they exit the room and suddenly she is yelling.

“What the hell, Opa!? Why did you bring him here?” She slaps his arm, making him flinch.

“He saved the deck! Saved me! What else was I to do? Leave him on the side of the road?” Opa growls, smiling even though his wife scowls at him.

“I suppose not,” she admits and looks back at the room with a sigh. “He leaves as soon as he is on his feet!” 

As it turns out, getting the Witcher on his feet takes a lot longer than they anticipate. With every day that passes without the Witcher waking up, Opa sees the worry lines on his wife’s face deepen, the woman constantly in the Witcher’s room. After the first week without him waking, she starts knitting and finishes a whole sweater by the middle of the second. 

When the third week rolls in, Opa opens the door to the spare room and immediately drops the cup of water he’s carrying when he sees the Witcher awake and staring at the ceiling. 

“Honey!” Opa hollars and rushed into the room. The Witcher turns his gaze onto him, his lips pressing into a frown as Opa helps him to sit up, his wife soon rushing into the room.

“Oh!” She rushes to the bedside, helping Opa get the Witcher upright before running to fetch a new glass of water and some bread. She offers the glass to him, helping him drink, and tares bite-sized pieces of bread, helping him eat. Being asleep for so long, the Witcher had lost a considerable amount of strength. 

“How do you feel?” Opa asks and the Witcher’s brow pinches as he thinks it over. “Do you know where you are?” Opa presses. The Witcher shook his head. “Do you know how you got so far out to sea?” Another shake. 

“What’s your name?” Opa looks over at his wife then back to the Witcher, watching as the man’s face shifts through a number of expressions before settling onto something panicked. Golden eyes dart up to look at each of them in turn.

“I…. I don’t remember.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always.... if I miss a tag, let me know.


End file.
